


Proposal

by arihime



Series: Twin AU [7]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4437182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arihime/pseuds/arihime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time has come for the newly crowned Exalt to choose a wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr. My MU's name is Aislin.

When Chrom finally manages to excuse himself from his latest dance partner, Aislin is nowhere in sight. The room is packed with what seems to be every eligible lady in the Halidom, and Chrom lets his eyes sweep over the crowd again to make sure he hasn’t missed her. He doubts he could; though blonde hair and purple dresses dot the ballroom, none of those women are as distinctive as Aislin.

  
Two other blondes do draw his attention, Lissa in green and Maribelle in pink beside her. They’re standing by the refreshment table chatting. Lissa waves him over when she catches his eye.

  
The refreshment table lies on the other end of the ballroom, and navigating the space in between is almost as treacherous as any battlefield Chrom has ever been on. The obstacles are numerous: councilors trying to discuss politics in anticipation of the first council meeting; nobles attempting to gain favor with the new Exalt. The worst, however, are the ladies. Every time he turns away from another distraction, there is a lady at his shoulder asking him to dance. Chrom rejects each of them as politely as he can, pleading exhaustion. It isn’t a lie, either; the day has been a long one, and dancing is much more taxing than Chrom ever thought possible. He’s probably danced with at least half the ladies present, and more keep coming.

  
Some of the women are more persistent than others. He’s almost reached Lissa when a buxom brunette grabs him and starts to haul him back towards the dance floor. Chrom sputters, and tries futilely to pull his arm out of her grasp, but her grip is surprisingly strong. Part of him wonders if she trains with Sully.

  
“Your Grace, you must come dance with me! I simply won’t take no for an answer.”

  
He plants his feet, but the woman tugs him forward, and he has to move to avoid falling onto the dance floor.

  
“My lady, please, at least give me a moment to rest.” He tries.

  
“You can rest later after our dance.” The woman says, and pulls.

  
Another set of hands wrap around Chrom’s free arm, keeping him in place. Chrom blanches. Not another woman, he can barely handle one!

  
Then a familiar voice washes over him, and he practically sags in relief.

  
“Chrom,” Lissa whines, “I haven’t seen you all night. You should come talk with me.” Her gaze flits to the other woman on his arm. “You don’t mind if I take him, do you?”

  
She smiles at the woman, all sweet and kind, but the hairs on Chrom’s arm stand up from the undercurrent of malice that runs through it all. The lady must sense it too, because she drops Chrom’s arm as if he were on fire.

  
“Of course, Princess.” The woman mumbles, but Lissa pulls him away before she even manages to finish her sentence.

  
Once they’re at the drink table, Maribelle hands him a glass, and he takes it gratefully. It’s juice, not champagne, but he drinks it down all the same.

  
"Vultures, the whole lot of them.” Maribelle scoffs, eyeing the crowd. A few girls break away from the pack and start to approach, but they falter under Maribelle’s gaze. “They just don’t know when to quit.”

  
"This is why I told the council I didn’t want a ball in the first place.” Chrom grumbles. He might be the ruler of Ylisse, but the council can still put enough pressure on him to get their way, and they had been particularly persistent about this. He sighs and takes another drink, wishing he could join the Shepherd men in their celebration. Sadly, it won’t do for the new Exalt to get drunk during his coronation ball, no matter how much he wants to.

  
Besides, he needs all his wits for what he plans to do once he finds Aislin.

  
“Of course they did. The country needs something to celebrate after going through a war.” Maribelle says, sensible as ever. “Besides, how else would they introduce you to their daughters? Not that it would make much of a difference. . .”

  
“Aislin’s on the balcony.” Lissa pipes up, and Chrom chokes on his drink.

  
“You were looking for her, weren’t you?” His sister continues, heedless of his coughing.

  
“I—yes.” Chrom says, when he can finally breathe again. “How—?”

  
The women share a look.

  
“Don’t worry about how we know, just worry about how to get there through this swarm of vultures.” Maribelle says. “Lucky for you, we’ll be running interference.”

  
“Aislin’s been out there for a while, and I haven’t seen anyone else go out. You two should be alone.” Lissa adds, winking at him.

  
Chrom flushes, wondering if his sister knows of his plans. His pocket suddenly feels heavy. “Lissa—”

  
“No more talking! Aislin’s waiting!”

  
She grabs one arm, and Maribelle the other, and they both lead him back through the sea of people. The crowd parts for them as they move, everyone quivering under Maribelle’s practiced glare, prim and proper and deadly. Lissa mirrors her, and even the councilors steer clear of them.

  
If only that look worked as well on Risen as it did on nobles; the Shepherds could clean up the country in no time.

  
The balcony wraps around the entire ballroom, though tonight only one door is open. Guards stand on either side of it, a reminder of the security an event like this entails. They nod respectfully to Chrom when he reaches the doors. Cool air wafts through, a welcome relief from the heat of the ballroom.

  
“Now you go and have some alone time with Aislin.” Lissa says, patting him on the shoulder. “Maribelle and I will guard the doors.”

  
“Lissa—” He starts, but his sister cuts him off.

  
“Don’t worry about it. This is your ball; you should do what makes you happy.”

  
“And those vultures should learn their place.” Maribelle adds.

  
He looks between the two, so at home on this battlefield, and smiles.

  
“Thank you.”

  
Chrom crosses the threshold, and suddenly the ballroom seems a world away. The balcony is cool and dark; only the lamps immediately around the doors are lit. More than that, it is quiet and empty. For the first time all night, Chrom finally feels like he can breathe.

  
He’s almost certain that’s what drew Aislin to the balcony, the peace and quiet. She stands off to the right, well away from the doors and the light from the lamps. She doesn’t stir as he approaches, too focused on the sight of Ylisstol below. The common citizens are also celebrating, lighting up the streets with their festivities.

  
He intends to stand next to her, but he stops when he realizes that she’s leaning against the railings, forearms propped on the smooth stone. Despite himself, his heart constrict at the sight, images of Emmeryn flashing in his mind. The balcony in Ylisse is far from the stone dragon that Emm fell from in Plegia, but seeing Aislin so close to the edge unnerves him all the same.

  
Aislin’s voice drifts toward him, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Come to take in the view?” She asks, looking at him over her shoulder.

  
“Yes.” Chrom breathes, though it isn’t the city that draws his gaze. Framed in the low lights, Aislin is a vision. The colors reflect off her hair, bringing out the gold in her pale locks. Shadows dance across her dress, the darker purple highlighting the violet of her eyes.

  
She would be lovely in anything she wore, but here in the quiet of the night, Aislin shines.

  
She smiles, the small one he knows is just for him, but turns back to look at the view. If possible, she scoots closer to the railings.

  
“There used to be festivals in the village near where Narcissus and I grew up. Sometimes, Mama would let us go down and join them, but I always liked watching from afar better, especially at night. All those lights seemed magical.”

  
“I’m sure your village is celebrating now.” Chrom says. He knows the entire Halidom is celebrating, both the end of the war and his coronation.

  
“Perhaps.” Aislin says. “But it’s nothing compared to this.”

  
She flattens herself against the stone with a sigh, and Chrom has to fight the urge to pull her back.

  
Instead, he holds out his hand. “Please, come away from the edge.”

  
She turns and stares at him, comprehension quickly dawning in her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She says, stepping forward and taking his hand. He pulls her along until his back hits the palace wall, safely away from the edge. “I didn’t realize—”

  
“Don’t apologize.” He says. “It’s a stupid fear to have—”

  
“It isn’t stupid, Chrom.”

  
She’s so close that Chrom could kiss her. He wants to kiss her, both for her understanding and because he loves her more than he could ever say.

  
He leans in to do just that, but she pulls away, hand slipping out of his grasp. She’s been doing that a lot tonight, pulling away when all Chrom wants to do is hold her tighter.

  
“How are you enjoying the ball, Your Grace?” She asks. Her tone is teasing, but she doesn’t look at him, eyes darting to the balcony doors.

  
Chrom winces at the title. “You know you don’t have to call me that.”

  
Her gaze comes back to him, and she smiles. “I know.”

  
“I’ve hardly had a break since it started.” Chrom says, running a hand through his hair. “Everyone wants to either dance with me or talk with me. I can’t decide which one is worse.”

  
“You can’t blame the people for wanting to spend time with their new Exalt.”

  
“If they had wanted to spend nearly this much time with me when I was a prince, the Shepherds would have had enough people to field a full army.” Chrom says ruefully.

  
Aislin laughs, the sound like clear bells.

  
He loves hearing her laugh, and wishes she would do it more often. He would spend the rest of his life trying to make her laugh, if she let him.

  
His hand goes to the ring in his pocket.

  
Aislin doesn’t notice, gaze once again going back to the ballroom doors. “. . . I suppose they have a good reason for hounding you so.”

  
“Oh really?” Chrom says. “And what is that?”

  
“You know what.” Aislin snaps. “All those women out there fawning all over you. Trying to win your favor.” She crosses her arms, her posture a mixture of anger and sadness. There is jealousy there too, something he never thought he would see in Aislin.

  
“You’re going to have to pick a wife someday.” She whispers.

  
“Yes.” Chrom acknowledges. “Too bad for them, I’ve already made my choice.”

  
He’s teasing her, and he regrets it immediately. Aislin practically wilts in front of him, eyes dropping to the floor. “I’m very happy for you.” She says, voice automatic. “Who is the lucky girl?”

  
“You.” Chrom says. The word comes out in a rush, desperate, as he is to wipe the defeated look from her face. “It’s you.”

  
Violet eyes widen. “What?”

  
“You’ve been with me through everything, even a war that wasn’t yours to fight.” He takes her hand in his. “And no matter how selfish it makes me, I never want to let you go, Aislin. I want to spend the rest of my days with you at my side.”

  
He pulls the ring out of his pocket and sinks onto a knee in one fluid motion.

  
“This ring was made to celebrate my birth; I’ve always treasured it and kept it close to me. But, since my earliest days, I knew I would find an even greater treasure, and that I’d give this ring to the woman I love so that both of my treasures would always be together.”

  
Aislin makes a strangled sound and covers her mouth with her hand.

  
“I love you, Aislin. I will always love you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  
Tears spring to Aislin’s eyes. Her hand flexes toward the ring, and for a wonderful moment, Chrom is sure she is going to accept.

  
Then his world comes crashing down.

  
“I can’t.” Aislin sobs, shaking her head wildly. She yanks her hand away from him.

  
“What?” Chrom sputters, his brain freezing. The ring falters in his hand. “Aislin, why—”

  
“I can’t.” She repeats, cutting him off. “You can’t marry me. Oh gods, you can’t.”

  
“Why not?” Chrom asks, coming to his feet. He reaches for her, and she backs away. “Aislin, what’s wrong? Why can’t I marry you?”

  
She shakes her head instead of answering, tears pooling in her eyes.

  
“You can’t, Chrom. Go back inside and find some other nice girl; there are hundreds of them that would be happy to marry you. Not me. I can’t.”

  
“I don’t want another girl; I love you!” Chrom shouts, his voice desperate. “Is this about you being Plegian? You know I don’t care about that, and no one else will care either.” And if they do, he’ll make them change their minds. “Aislin, _please_.”

  
“I can’t! You can’t! We can never—” She sobs, tears coursing down her cheeks. “I can’t. _I can’t._ I’m such a fool—”

  
She cuts off with a cry as her back hits the balcony railings. Somehow, they’ve made it all the way back to the edge. The impact startles her, and she wobbles precariously before regaining her footing.

  
For one, horrible moment, Chrom has a vision of her toppling over the railings to the courtyard below. Of her skull cracked open, blood staining her blonde hair the same way it did Emm’s.

  
He freezes.

  
Aislin runs, her shoulder knocking into his as she sprints away from him, away from the ballroom doors and into the dark of the night. Her sobs trail behind her, each one digging a spike into Chrom’s heart.

  
The ring falls from his nerveless fingers to the floor.


End file.
